


Someone Old, Someone New, Someone Borrowed, Someone Blue

by underwoodblood



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Bisexual Character, Cake, Cigarettes, Conversations, F/F, Femslash, First Kiss, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Grace has a crush, Kinda, Lesbian Character, Maids of honor, Party, Speeches, Weddings, gay as a tree full of monkeys on nitrous oxide, one tiny weenie fleabag reference, quite romantic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:40:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24225223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/underwoodblood/pseuds/underwoodblood
Summary: "Grace left not waiting for any complaints. Partly because she didn’t want to give Mycroft a chance to say no, and partly because she felt strange. To spend time with Mycroft apart from work. There was always something between them. Grace always admired her intelligence, protectiveness, and power, but never crossed the line to ask her out or anything. Now it seemed very easy to cross it. The atmosphere of the party was to blame, surely that was it. But if it meant them both having some fun, why not?"
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 1
Kudos: 24





	Someone Old, Someone New, Someone Borrowed, Someone Blue

_ Sherlock, you lucky minx. Now, as everyone here already know this I can relieve your secret. My god, how very in love you are. Aren’t you? Ladies and gents, this woman right here is absolutely mad. Believe me, I work with her. Well, I work with both of them, God help me! Oh, sorry, Father. Anyway. She always used to say she didn’t need anyone because she was married to her work. _

_ Honey, I hope you have that divorce behind you, eh? _

_ Sherlock is almost always right about everything, I’ll give her that, but this time she was wrong. Everyone needs someone. It’s just that sometimes it’s hard to find the right someone. So you get through life meeting people that aren’t right and you think maybe that’s it, maybe I’m meant to be alone. But no, that’s not it and I’ve known this since Sherlock started bringing Joan to the crime scenes. _

_ Believe me, they are perfect for each other. Maybe I’m a bloody romantic, but they’re soulmates. They have something we all can only dream of. A nice flat in central London, yes, but also a unique chemistry. Sorry for breaking it to you but I don’t think there’s any other couple so meant for each other as these two. Mr Hudson is all in tears already so I’ll shut up. Thanks. _

It’s been a very long and busy day. No one said being a maid of honour would be all fun and games. Grace had been one before though, so taking care of the bouquets and the speech wasn’t a problem. And this time, as Sherlock and Joan didn’t really care about those things, she didn’t have to wear any silly dress.

Really, it was so much easier to run after Sherlock, search for Joan’s earrings and then, after everything, to dance and have fun in oxford loafers and a suit. 

So after a quite brilliant ceremony, the cake, the first dance and a chat with Mr Hudson, Grace was free. It was only a bit relieving. Making herself busy, making herself dutiful had seemed the right thing to do. At least as a friend of both brides. But it also helped her stop thinking too much about all this.

Of course, she was happy for Joan and Sherlock, she couldn’t express how much, actually, but on the other hand…

She didn’t miss her own marriage, God, no. It had been awful and the day she left the court free was one of the best days in her life. 

It was more about loneliness.

Grace was a people person, always had been. Not only because she was a one hundred percent extrovert, always keeping in touch with friends, always outgoing. But also because she always needed someone to put her love on. She could care about her friends, visit her nephews whenever she could and all that but it wasn’t enough, because she really was a romantic. 

Not all people were wired that way, she knew that. There were people like her or Joan for example, in need of expressing their love, in need of someone by their side. And there were people like Sherlock, not waiting for A relationship, just ready to give yourself up for THE one.

It didn’t mean Grace (or Joan) didn’t love truthfully, no. It just meant they were just always more willing to try.

That’s why thinking about this wedding was so hard. Because those two bloody bastards were so perfect for each other and found each other in spite of all.

Grace decided not to dwell on it though. It wasn’t that bad to feel just a little lonely, and besides, she was  _ generally _ happy, with all those happy people surrounding her.

Well, happy people and Mycroft Holmes sitting at the table. She was absolutely the only sitting person in the whole room. 

Sherlock didn’t want to let go of Joan, making her dance and dance for hours and all guests were dancing too. Well, apart from the ones already dozing off in spare rooms.

Not Mycroft though. She was sitting there, not as upright as always, dressed flawlessly of course in a dress probably send to her by Kate Middleton or something, with a kind, almost invisible, and probably fake smile. It would be a very funny view to enjoy if Grace didn’t know better. Mycroft looked awkward. It was painfully obvious she didn’t want to be there but was too bloody well-mannered to leave. Always the big sister.

Grace decided to go there and “ _ entertain the wedding guests _ ” a little.

“Deducing how many people won’t get home tonight?”

Mycroft raised her head slowly, “Approximately eight. No, ten.” She smirked.

Of course, she did know that. It would be a surprise if she didn’t know anything. 

Grace slumped on a chair next to her.

“Oh, I’m afraid I will be going soon,” Mycroft said at once.

“Absolutely not, you’ve been sitting there for hours, am I supposed to believe you’re leaving now?”

That drew a sigh out of her. “It must have been very apparent I am fatigued if it made you came here.”

“Well, you look bored.” 

“Your speech was very… entertaining.”

Grace grinned. Mycroft and her bloody compliments. As if she didn’t let herself say anything simply nice. It always had to be wrapped in some vague words.

“You can say it was silly, ‘s fine.”

“I really did like it. It was charismatic.”

“Oh, please. Comparing to yours, mine sounded like written on a napkin.”

Mycroft raised an eyebrow. “Wasn’t it?”

“Ha! Very funny…” It was, actually. And Grace started to really enjoy their conversation.

“Apologies, I really must go,” Mycroft said and raised from her chair, she looked unsettled. 

“Wait, where are you going, exactly? Or I’ll think you just don’t want to talk.”

“I promised Sherlock to stay for a while. She wished of me not to leave before 10. When you approached it was nearly ten. I can leave now.”

“What? But you don’t need to.” That wasn’t exactly a question.   
  


“Weddings are not my… thing.” Mycroft admitted clearly hesitating. She had been so sure of leaving not so long ago.

“Oh, come on, call your driver off. You have five minutes and I’ll bring some cake.”

Grace left not waiting for any complaints. Partly because she didn’t want to give Mycroft a chance to say no, and partly because she felt strange. To spend time with Mycroft apart from work. There was always _ something _ between them. Grace always admired her intelligence, protectiveness, and power, but never crossed the line to ask her out or anything. Now it seemed very easy to cross it. The atmosphere of the party was to blame, surely that was it. But if it meant them both having some fun, why not?

She actually smuggled two enormous pieces of wedding cake, putting some apple pie and tartelettes on both plates. Her grin grown even bigger when she saw Mycroft sitting there with no intention to leave.

“I‘m very glad you’re staying.” She said putting both plates on the beautifully decorated table. 

“I don’t understand what’s for you from all this, you could be dancing. Milo would be very interested…”

“And I am not. Now try this” Grace pointed at the wedding cake “‘cause I can bet every money you haven’t tried it yet.”

Mycroft raised her brow but raised her fork carefully, “Bold guess.”

“Not guess, experience and observation.”

“Hmm.” She made a funny face putting a piece of cake in her mouth.

Grace tried not to watch, although it was hard. Firstly because they were having a conversation and secondly because Mycroft made a whole performance out of a simple act of eating. Her manners made her very theatrical and her quiet, restrained joy was very satisfying to observe. Also a bit strange. Grace felt as a tiny shiver went down her spine. 

“You spend too much time with my sister.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

Mycroft didn’t raise her head, fidgeting with the fork, “Touche.”

Now, as Grace started thinking about not staring it was harder not to. Especially when Mycroft wasn’t willing to keep eye contact for too long. 

It was just that Mycroft never wore dresses. Well, not to work... and she was always at work. She wore suits or skirts and waistcoats and jackets and bespoke coats. Not dresses exposing her neck and freckled forearms. It was safe to focus on the forearms. Definitely not the neck. Because Mycroft’s hair was always done neatly, always up, nothing new, but not with that simple, grey dress.  _ Oh for fuck’s sake _ , she had freckles on her neck too. All the way up behind her ear. God, it wasn’t the best moment for that.

Mycroft was a genius, Mycroft must’ve noticed. She wasn’t stupid, she was just polite enough not to tell her off. She was smiling to herself. A bit? 

“I must say you did a very good job preparing all… this.” She said scanning the room, definitely not the first time this evening.

Grace chuckled. “Ah, no, that’s mostly Sherlock. She was bloody invested.”

“I’m aware of that, she wanted to involve me too.”

“Oh god.”

“Precisely my words. I prefer to help from a distance.”

“So you did help.”

“So did you. They would never choose ecru tablecloths by themselves.” Mycroft smirked.

“Now, this is scary.”

She didn’t feel insulted at all. Actually, even if her eyes rarely reached Grace’s face, and if she was smiling it was always a small hidden smile, she enjoyed herself. “It’s nothing, really.”

“Please, it’s not and you know it. Just go on and admit you’re bloody brilliant. I already know you are.”

Mycroft’s smile seemed to grow. “I simply heard you talking about them with Mr Hudson earlier.” Ah, that was it, eye contact, a playful one, a bold one. And Grace felt bold too. Feeling as those steel-grey eyes kept piercing into her. 

“Ooh, you could’ve come and say hi.”

“I don’t do that.”

“Yeah, right, you say  _ Good evening, Lestrade _ .”

Mycroft chuckled, “Well, doesn’t seem fitting at the moment.”

It’s not that Grace hadn’t seen those eyes before and it’s not like she hadn’t noticed them before. But something shifted between them and she felt it could be very dangerous. It was thrilling. She hadn’t felt anything like this in years. Of course, there’d been attractive people, of course, there’d been people she wanted or slept with. But they weren’t  _ her _ . 

Precisely because of that, Grace couldn’t do anything. It wasn’t wise to do something stupid and ruin everything. She was better than that. Mycroft would never look her in the eyes after something that idiotic. 

“I-” Grace didn’t know what to say, “I think I need a smoke.”

She got up and traced her pockets searching for cigarettes.

“Well, then.” Mycroft took her purse gracefully ready to leave the room as well.

To Grace, it seemed a wise decision. To leave the place for a minute, to change the scenery, take a breath.

It was warm outside, as warm as usual late May evenings were. Standing by the entrance, fortunately, they were alone. Grace couldn’t decide if her situation was fortunate or not though. What a stupid, stupid circumstances to have a crush someone. Not someone, but Mycroft bloody Holmes.

Grace’s hands were shaking, only slightly, but it was enough for Mycroft to notice and offer her own lighter. 

The flame was dithering slightly between them. It was hard to keep the tip of the cigarette under the flame long enough to light it. 

Grace grabbed Mycroft’s hand impatiently. She held it firmly until she could feel the nicotine filling her mouth. 

“Thanks, My.”

“No problem at all.”

They smoked in silence. Mycroft seemed to be lost deep in her thoughts, staring at her hand, holding a cigarette. Her nails were painted in a strange colour, between orange, pink, and red. Coral maybe.    
Grace was occupied with her own thoughts, most of them chaotic. All of them about Mycroft. She couldn’t even know if Mycroft was gay. God, please. Her disinterest in men didn’t mean anything. Grace knew she shouldn’t have assumed anything and besides, it was very bold to assume that even _ if  _ Mycroft was interested in women, she would be interested in an ordinary, divorced cop. It wasn’t self-pitying, no, Grace didn’t do that. It was simply… stating the truth she believed. 

When they both finished their cigarettes, Mycroft opened the door for them to come back. Always so polite. She let Grace in gesturing the entrance and then something unusual happened. 

Grace felt a hand on her back. It was Mycroft letting her in, touching her casually.

Well, it would be casual, but not with bloody Holmes. It just didn’t happen. Mycroft was always so reserved, so… unreachable.

Something in Grace snapped. She felt off-guard, happy, and angry at the same time.  _ How dared she?!  _ Just do something like this as if it didn’t lit every part of Grace’s body?!

She turned around rapidly, almost bumping into Mycroft, whose hand was still touching her. Whose steel eyes instantly went wide.

Mycroft wanted to apologize.  _ Idiot. _

Grace came closer, almost face to face, which was hard with those bloody heels Mycroft always wore. Probably for the etiquette and to be taller than anyone in the room.    
  
Grace prayed, just this once, to be right about this. To read all this right. She put her hand on Mycroft’s arm, reached, and kissed her. It was chaste at first, because god, she wouldn’t forgive herself to fuck this up. But then, when she wanted to stop, Mycroft’s mouth followed her and she felt a fist tightening on her shirt.

“Mycroft”, she said breaking the kiss. A small, disbelieving smile appearing on her face.

It caused another kiss. More intense this time. Mycroft seemed to take the lead, pulling Grace closer. Devastating her with slow but bold caresses. 

“My, not here,” Grace said breathlessly. 

“Definitely not here.”

They had to find a free room. 

Fortunately, the one where Grace had shoved her bag full of “emergency maid of honour stuff” was empty and no one really cared where they’d go. 

There was no time to search for the light switch, but the lamp outside the building was bright enough. They sneaked in not letting go of each other. 

Mycroft’s back touched the door with a thud. Grace pinned her with an impatient gasp and found her lips immediately. 

  
  


_ Doctor Watson, in the first instance I need to congratulate on your bravery because entering the Holmes family definitely demands it.  _

  
  


Grace wasn’t afraid anymore. Knowing Mycroft wanted her too made all the doubt disappear. She put her hand on Mycroft’s thigh sliding hem of her dress up. 

“You sure about it?”

“Yes.”

“Then we need to take that bloody thing off you.”

  
  


_ It demands persistence and patience as well. I can tell, with absolute certainty, that everyone here sees those qualities in you. _

  
  


Grace moved her hands to Mycroft’s back, searching for the zip. It would’ve probably gone quicker but they couldn’t stop kissing. Finally, the dress was unzipped and Mycroft had to let go of the other woman’s neck to be able to release her own shoulders from the sleeves. 

“There you go, gorgeous” Grace said dropping the dress on the floor. Watching Mycroft in half-darkness, only in her underwear, tights and stilettos. 

Watching those neverending legs. 

  
  


_ I know my sister very well, even if she does not want to admit it, and I know it’s hard to gain her trust. It needs time and again, persistence, but it is worth it. She is not willing to open up, but when she does she always pours her heart out. _

  
  


Grace kissed her. Because there were absolutely no words to express the feelings. So she kissed her again, hard, showing Mycroft how much passion she had for her. Christ, head over heels already.

Her jacket quickly disappeared when she was busy exploring the scent of perfume on Mycroft’s neck. She quickly abandoned the shirt too. 

It was funny how very different they were, Grace, down to earth, all tanned, a bit muscular, a bit rough. And Mycroft, pale, soft, tall, all freckled, all blushed, looking at her intensely. 

  
  


_ I never thought she would find someone who would deserve her.  _

  
  


“Bed, alright?”

  
  


_ But there you are, caring about her like no one has ever cared. _

  
  


Mycroft agreed and led Grace straight to the bed, pushing her onto it.

“Woah. Okay. That’s nice.”

  
  


_ Following her and her mad ideas everywhere. _

  
  


She straddled Grace’s thighs and unbuckled her belt and trousers. 

  
  


_ Knowing how to make her happy. _

  
  


“Tights. Off.”

Mycroft got up and took off her heels and tights graciously.

  
  


_ Keeping pace with her. Because that, that means being just as mad as her. _

  
  
  


When she came back, Grace didn’t let her climb onto her again. She changed their positions making Mycroft lay on her back instead. She thought about kissing every part of that bloody walking piece of art right there, but there was no time for it now. She’d have a lot of time for it later. 

  
  


_ And I was a fool for not believing in that kind of a relationship because I didn’t expect for people like you to exist. Mad enough, brave enough and good enough as well. People who make domesticity feel right and vulnerability become freeing. I notice all this while looking at my sister and I can only imagine how good, scary and rousing it must be. Because, as someone once said, love is frightening and no wonder it is something we don’t want to do on our own. So if she decided to go through that sweet hell with you, congratulations. Take all the patience, love and trust you can and go. _

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
